


Courage, Braveheart

by NikaylaSarae



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Hospitals, Negative Self Talk, Surgery, death talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaylaSarae/pseuds/NikaylaSarae
Summary: Virgil had known since he was young that his chances for living long were slim. Still, he had hoped to have lived a little bit longer.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted with minor edits from my Tumblr account @stillebesat.

Dead at sixteen.

Virgil watched the irregular wavy lines on the monitor that were his broken heart beat. 

Dead at sixteen. 

The doctors were trying to be positive. Telling him and his mother that he would receive a new heart any day now.

But Virgil wasn’t a fool. Dead at sixteen from acute heart failure. Dead because his heart hadn’t worked right since the day he’d been born. 

Virgil closed his eyes, though that didn’t stop him from seeing the sporadic lifeline in his mind. That didn’t stop him from feeling his heart struggling to beat within his chest. Fluttering like a bird with a broken wing. Dead at sixteen. 

He knew his chances for survival. And they were...well...slim. Slim to none. His AB- blood did him no favors. It would be a miracle really to have some poor fool die that just happened to be an organ donor. That just happened to have his rare blood type, let alone was nearly his height, as well as his weight. With a heart that was healthy? Ha. 

He’d known his odds of living long weren’t good since he was nine. 

Realized he’d be lucky to reach twenty when he was twelve.

Had hoped at fourteen that he’d at least be able to get his driver’s license before he kicked the bucket.

And here he was. Age sixteen and no license. Age sixteen and unlikely to make it past the end of the month. The end of the week really with how hard the doctors had had to work to keep him alive in the past forty-eight hours. 

He slowly opened his eyes, glaring at the blurry monitor that decried his impending doom. Dead at sixteen. Leaving his mother alone, under a mountain of medical bills and funeral costs that would take the rest of her life to pay off even with the three jobs she was working now. Three jobs she hadn’t been at since he’d been rushed to the hospital.

Useless. Only causing her more pain. More heartache. He swallowed past the hard lump in his throat, his chest shuddering with suppressed sobs as the stupid heart monitor showed his deadbeat heart attempting to learn an Irish jig.

What had his mother ever done to deserve a son like him? Why had she not cut her losses when he’d first been born? When his father had vanished into the night never to return? She didn’t deserve this torment, this heartache of watching him die in front of her very eyes. 

She deserved so much more than him. She deserved a strong healthy son who could be everything Virgil was not.

“Virgil?” He flinched as his mother’s sleep fogged voice came from behind. Her calloused fingers brushed his bangs from his eyes a half second later, soon trailing to run down his cheek. “Shh darling, it’s alright. It’s alright.” 

Virgil turned his head to face her, his vision blurring further. She didn’t deserve this. His hand reached up to take hers, pressing her warm skin against his cheek. “I’m sor--sorry, Mama.” He choked out as his tears splashed onto her hand. 

She smiled, even now still able to light up the room. How could she still be warm and loving to him when he caused so much pain? She squeezed his hand, leaning down to kiss his pale forehead. “My darling boy, what are you sorry for?” She whispered. 

“For...for being...me.” 

She straightened enough to look him straight in the eyes as she placed a finger to his lips, stopping him from saying more. “None of that now, Virgil.” She said firmly. “You are the best son I could ever have wished to have. You’re my darling sweet boy and I would not change a thing.” 

He silently shook his head, vision blurring further. BUT HE WAS DYING! How could he be the BEST when he was the WORST for leaving her! She deserved so much more. She didn’t deserve to deal with this heartache he was causing her. 

“Don’t lose hope now, Virgil.” She whispered, carefully sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, avoiding the spiderweb of wires and tubes that were helping to keep him alive. She squeezed his thin hand. “Keep fighting. You will get your new heart. And in a year you won’t even be able to recognize yourself. Just you wait and see.” 

Virgil closed his eyes. How could she still love him?! How could she still be so positive? The chances of there being a heart for him before his own gave up were dismal. Everything was working against them. 

Yet she still chose to hope. 

He sniffed, squeezing her hand back as tightly as he could. “I’ll try.” He mumbled. “Mama, I’ll try.” 

She leaned in pressing her forehead against his. “That’s all I ask, my darling.” She pulled back fussing with his hair again. “Keep fighting.” She smiled as he looked up at her. “It will work out, Virgil.” Her own eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “It will. I know it will.”


	2. Chapter 2

Her hand stilled on his cheek, a small crease appearing between her eyes as his mother lifted her head, staring at the door. 

Virgil tensed, his heart pit-pattering in a nervous tap dance as a swell of sound, like the roar of a large waterfall reached his ears. It crescendoed outside of his hospital room before suddenly cutting off. Virgil squeezed his mother’s hand, glancing at her for reassurance at the unexpected noise, tensing further as the door opened. Oh no. 

“Is everything alright, Doctor?” His mother asked calmly though her hand trembled on his cheek, giving away her nervousness at the sudden visit.

Virgil swallowed hard, forcing himself to lift his head to see the transplant doctor standing there with flushed cheeks, his eyes bright and intent on Virgil as he fought to catch his breath.

“Virgil.” The doctor said as he stepped forward, a crowd of nurses and other doctors peering into the room behind him. 

“Ye-Yeah?” He stuttered, as terror skyrocketed in him, His eyes flickered to his staggering heart rate on the monitor. He hadn’t heard any alarms. Was he about to go into cardiac arrest again?! Why else would the doctor suddenly burst in like this? 

“Virgil.” The doctor’s repeated solemnly before his face broke into a wide smile. “There’s a match.” 

His mother gasped, hand raising to her cover her mouth as Virgil stared at him blankly. That wasn’t….“What?” A match? To what? 

“It just came onto the database.” The doctor said stopping at the foot of Virgil’s bed. His eyes softened at Virgil’s confusion. “There’s a heart that has matched to you, Virgil. You’re getting a new heart. Today.” 

“No.” He breathed, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest, skipping its way up to his throat and back down again. That...that wasn’t possible? The chances were so slim. It. This had to be a dream. 

“Yes.” 

“I...I….” Virgil swallowed, glancing to the others in the doorway. They were all smiling. Some pumping their fists in the air in celebration while others had tears trailing down their cheeks, causing his own eyes to blur. “I don’t beli--you’re serious?” 

His mother practically squealed. She wiggled his hand, shaking it back and forth as her face lit up. “I TOLD YOU!” she whispered fiercely. “I TOLD YOU!” 

“It’s real, Virgil.” The doctor said, his own eyes shimmering. “You ready?” 

There was a heart. For him. For HIM. The one in a gazillion, needle in a haystack chance...had happened. To him. 

Virgil couldn’t speak, his lips pulling upwards even as he worked to keep himself from sobbing aloud. He nodded. Nodded again like a bobblehead, unable to stop. Yes. YES. He was ready. He didn’t even care that there were tears streaming down his face. It was for an entirely different emotion now. There was a chance. For him. Now. 

The doctor grinned even wider, if that was possible, as he gestured to the door, prompting more of the medical staff to come inside, congratulatory smiles on their faces as they fussed with the equipment, the bed, his chart. “Well then, let’s get you prepped.” 

Virgil had been told that when the moment came and a donor heart became ready, everything would move quickly. After all, they were racing against the clock to get the heart to the waiting patient before it became ineffectual as a transplant. And now, now that there was one finally heading Virgil’s way, the staff could act. 

He couldn’t believe how fast it was all going down though.

Everyone seemed to be moving at the speed of light. Nurses and Doctors running back and forth, many offering him congratulations, smiles, and pats to the shoulders as he went through the pre-surgery process.

To say it was overwhelming was an understatement. He’d gone from despair to hope so quickly Virgil was surprised he hadn’t experienced whiplash...or well, his stupid heart stopping. 

There was suddenly so much positivity around him as he and his mother went over his medical history, the statistics, and the risks with the doctor. So much encouragement from the nurses and techs as he had X-rays taken of his chest and blood drawn from his arm. So much laughter in his presence that caused his weak heart to bounce up and down with growing hope. It had been too long since people had been so relaxed and happy around him and he couldn’t help but smile shyly back in the face of it. 

Even his mother had perked up as she stuck firmly by his side, teasing him, constantly brushing his hair out of his eyes. She only left once, barely long enough for the x-rays to be taken before coming right back. 

Every time he looked to her, he only saw her smiling. Smiling wider than he’d seen her smile in years. Her teeth flashing in the light as she kept up a bright stream of encouragement and hope throughout all the medical talk and pre-surgery procedures. 

That in of itself was enough to assuage his fears, the doubts, the what ifs. 

But all too soon, though a glance at the passing clock showed that nearly two hours had already passed by, it was suddenly time.

The anesthesiologist was giving him the medication. A nurse was standing by to put the breathing tube down his throat. Then Virgil would be on his way into the surgery that would change his life.. 

“Mama.” He whispered, fear striking hard and fast. This was it. This was it. He would either come out of this surgery with a new heart…or deader than a doornail. And he feared it would be the latter. He knew the statistics of death on the table were minimal...but what if he was the one to become that statistic? What if.. What if...he never was going to see her again? There was so much he wanted to say, so much he had wanted to do for her.

His mother leaned in, kissing his forehead. “I love you, Virgil.” She said, a calm peaceful smile on her lips as she pulled back, brushing his bangs out of his eyes once more. “You’re going to be just fine.” 

“I love you...lots.” He managed, reaching out to squeeze her hand as he felt the medicine taking effect. 

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” Her voice echoed in his ears as his head tilted sideways, eyes sliding shut, the last image he saw being of his angel of a mother smiling at him.


	3. Chapter 3

It came almost imperceptibly. One moment he floated in darkness, the next a soft warm light completely encompassed him. Virgil blinked, confused to see himself standing...floating? in...well...a blank space. He rubbed his eyes and blinked again for good measure, but the scenery didn’t change. Everywhere he looked, all he could see was the soft orange light, like sunshine shining through closed eyelids. But whether he was standing outside, in a room, or floating in the clouds...he couldn’t tell. It definitely wasn’t the hospital though. That much he knew.

“So. You’re the one.”

Virgil jumped, hand automatically coming up to his chest to...He paused. His heart. His heart wasn’t pounding. He frowned, hand clutching at his dark hoodie as he turned to the source of the confident voice. He blinked, raising his eyebrows at the young man standing before him. “Are you supposed to be an Angel?” he asked. “Because sad to say, you’re coming off a bit more like Prince Charming.” 

The man, who couldn’t have been much older than Virgil, chuckled. “A Prince?” He glanced down to his white suit with gold buttons, a vivid red sash across his chest, a direct contrast to Virgil’s own clothes. “Are you a damsel in distress, my dear Edgelord? Needing a handsome prince to come rescue you?” 

Virgil frowned. Edgelord? “Like I need rescuing, Princey.” 

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Says the Lion in need of a new heart.”

Virgil tightened his hand on his chest where his heart was not beating frantically. Why was it not trying to pound its way out of his body like it usually did in these situations? “How do you know that?” 

Princey flashed a brilliant smile, spreading his arms. “You could say, I have a vested interest in whether or not you deserve the new heart coming to you.”

Virgil swallowed and looked away, hunching his shoulders. It really was too good to be true. Him getting a new heart? Why had he even believed it possible? “Well...I don’t.” He said quietly. 

“Excuse me?”

Virgil shook his head, refusing to look at the man. “I don’t deserve it. I’m sure there are a hundred better candidates for a new heart than me. So if this is some sort of spirit battle for who gets this one…” 

Which how messed up was that? Spirit wars? Was he a ghost? Was that why Virgil couldn’t feel his spasmic heart beating? 

“Hey, that’s not--”

Virgil jerked his free hand up, cutting Princey off. “Just go ahead and take it, Princey. It’s all yours.” He wasn’t much of a fighter, how could he be when his heart threatened to give out if he sat up too fast in bed?

“Sir Darkness, that’s not--” 

“Look,” Virgil forced himself to meet the man’s bewildered gaze. He was everything Virgil wasn’t. Confident. Strong. Princely. He had a better chance at surviving a heart surgery than Virgil ever did, that was for sure. “I never even thought I’d live to even see a glimmer of a chance of this alright? My odds of getting a new heart in the first place were, are, basically nonexistent.”

Princey frowned, “And I kno--” 

Virgil’s fingers went white on his hoodie as he stared the other guy down, once again cutting him off. “I just...I just…” His eyes burned. “I just wanted a new heart because I don’t wanna leave my Mom alone, okay? She’ll be by herself, with a ton of bills, and I just...want to stop causing her heartache. Make her happy. See her smile without worrying about the next time I’ll end up in the hospital because my heart gave out again.” 

Princey shook his head, hands clenching. “That’s why--”

“But I know. I’m sure you have more impressive reasons, Princey.” Virgil’s reason was so small, and very selfish. He just wanted to make his mom happy. He was sure the Prince before him had better arguments as to why he deserved the heart. “I get it. I do. Your chances are already bet--”

“I’M ALREADY **_DEAD_** , LORD KNIGHTMARE!” 

The room went cold, red lightning crackling around the space as the two stared each other down. Virgil tensed, ice flashing down his sternum. “W-what?” He stammered, massaging his freezing chest. Princey was?

Princey cleared his throat, running a hand through his perfect hair and messing it up, though still managing to look noble even doing that. He offered Virgil a faint smile. “I’m already dead.” He repeated in a softer voice, gesturing to himself. 

“Oh.” Virgil ducked his head, feeling like such a fool. How long had Princey been trying to say just that while Virgil had blabbered on and on. “I’m sorry… I didn’t….did it hurt?” He bit his lip. Geez, Virgil. Seriously? Did it hurt? The guy just said he was dead! “Don’t answer that, Princey. That wasn’t-” 

The man smiled, giving a soft laugh as he shook his head. “You’re fine.” He lightly brushed off his shoulders. “No, for me it didn’t hurt.” He said, humor suddenly dancing in his eyes. “I’ve fought Dragon Witches that had much more of a bite than Death did, Sir Edgelord. You can believe that.”

Dragon witches? Virgil hunched his shoulders. What sort of nonsense was Princey speaking now? “So...it was quick?” 

Princey nodded, drawing himself up, making his smile more confident. “It was like looking in a camera when the light flashes.” he said theatrically, raising a hand. “One moment I’m alive, Camera Flash, then I’m not.” He gestured to Virgil. “Honestly, you’re going to experience more pain than I did, once you wake back up.”

Virgil jerked. Huh? “Wake up? You mean I’m not dead too?” 

Princey snorted and shook his head. “Technically, you’re in limbo.” 

“Oh.” Virgil chewed his bottom lip, trying to understand as he looked around the warm space. “Then, if I’m not dead, and you are, and I’m in limbo,” which he’d thought would be more grey and black than this sunlit place, “and you’re...dead.” He gripped his chest, grimacing as another cold searing flash rushed through him. “Why am I here with you?” 

Princey gaped at him for a moment before he threw back his head in a roar of laughter. 

Virgil stiffened. “I don’t see what’s so funny.” 

“You are, My Emo Knight.” Princey gasped out. “I can’t believe you’re not seeing...you really don’t think much of yourself do you?” 

He frowned. “Of course not, I’ve been next to useless for basically my entire life. I’m hardly worth anything.” 

Princey cut off his laughter, straightening with a frown. “That’s not true.” 

Virgil clenched his fists. “It is.” 

“Is not. You’re more valuable than--”

“Than a heap of garbage?” He could hardly do anything to help his mother around the house for crying out loud! “I’ve been about as useful, just not as smelly.” Most of the time. 

“Not. True.” The Prince took a step forward, and Virgil quickly took a step back, eyes widening at the passion burning in the Princey’s eyes. “You aren’t useless, Edgelord. You’ve been more helpful than you’ve dreamed. A source of inspiration to everyone around you. I hardly doubt any other soul in the hospital has been able to wrap the staff and doctors so thoroughly around their little finger as quickly as you’ve done.” 

More red lightning crackled around them, flashing to Virgil. He bit back a scream, his vision once more blurring as he fell to his knees, hugging himself tightly. The ice in his chest feeling like a glacial storm of frozen needles. “You...You can’t know that.” He choked out. 

Princey smirked, moving closer. “I can too. Everyone is waiting to hear that your surgery is a success. That you’ve woken up.” 

“But…” Virgil worked to keep breathing, flinching at the lightening crackling all around them. “I haven’t woken up.”

“Of course not.” Princey paused, towering over him. “You’re still in surgery. They’re prepping now to remove that black demon that’s been masquerading as your heart.” He pointed to Virgil’s chest. 

Virgil looked down and fell backwards with a yelp, his hand scrambling to brush at his bare chest, the hoodie having vanished. 

There crouched over his heart, like a malevolent tick with beady yellow eyes, was a creature that could only be described as a demon. “GET IT OFF ME!” He yelled, his hand unable to close around the blackened thing digging its talons deep into his chest. Withered prune like wings shifted on the thing's back as the creature hissed, frost wafting from it’s mouth to fall upon Virgil’s skin, turning it blue. 

Virgil shivered, gritting his teeth as again and again he tried to pull the thing off of him, but his fingers slipped over an invisible barrier preventing him from doing so. Why couldn’t he touch it?! 

“Well, that proves it then.” Princey said, kneeling next to him. 

“Proves what?” Virgil demanded, flicking his eyes up to the Prince and back to the demon, only to lift his head once more in surprise, staring at him. “Why in the world are you glowing, Princey?” A soft red ring of light had appeared out of nowhere, surrounding him. 

He smiled. “I said I had a vested interest in whether or not you deserved to get the heart, did I not, Edgelord?” 

“And I thought we agreed I didn’t.” Virgil said with a frown. Did the demon on his chest prove that further? Was he unhealable? He was going to die in this surgery wasn’t he. 

“You agreed with yourself that you didn’t, but.” Princey reached up to his jacket and pulled it apart. Holding his hand over his bare chest, the red glow surrounding him flowed to center itself underneath his palm in a swirling cloud. “I agreed to no such thing.” The red glow brightened further, coalescing to form a brilliant red and gold dragon. 

“Whoa.” Virgil breathed, eyes wide, momentarily forgetting the ugly withered thing crouched on top of his own chest. “It’s...it’s…” 

“Yours.”

“Mi--??” Virgil cut off as it hit him.

_I’m already dead.  
There’s a heart that has matched to you.  
I have a vested interest.  
You ready for a new heart, Virgil? _

Virgil’s vision blurred, his eyes burning. He was such an idiot for not seeing it sooner. “The heart.” He choked out. “The heart that became available.” He blinked to clear his sight, to see Princey grinning at him. How could he smile in the face of this! “It’s yours.” 

“Was.” Princey corrected with a shrug. “Won’t have much use for it anymore.” He stroked the dragon’s back fondly, before he gently pulled the creature off of his chest, holding it tenderly in his hand. “One more quest to complete, one last heroic act.” He said, quietly. 

The dragon whined, curling up tightly into a ball, the bright red fading into a dull glow. 

Princey looked up, his own eyes shimmering. “Take good care of my heart, alright, Edgelord?” 

No, no. It was too...Why him? Why did this man have to die so that Virgil could live?! It wasn’t fair. “I...I...how can I...” Virgil shook his head. “Princey...I--”

“Roman.” 

Virgil blinked. “Huh?” 

“My name’s Roman.” Roman said, holding out his free hand. 

Oh, OH. Virgil reached out to shake it. “Virgil.”

“Virgil.” Roman repeated, nodding. “A good name for a valiant Knight.” His eyes softened. “Live up to the name, alright?” He let go, but instead of withdrawing his hand, he plunged it down, his fingers piercing through the demon’s skin like a hot knife through butter. 

The demon screamed an ear shattering shriek as it convulsed, claws digging in deep, sending ice shooting through Virgil’s veins. 

Virgil cried out in turn, a muffled noise compared to the demon’s cries. He went limp as Roman pulled the shriveling demon off of him. His lungs shuddered, struggling to work as vivid red and purple lightning lit up the space, blinding him. 

“Breathe, Virgil. It will be fine.” Roman’s voice echoed distantly in his ears. 

FINE?! He couldn’t MOVE! It was only getting colder. He was drowning in the arctic. This was it. This was--

Warmth blossomed in the center of his chest, a loud thrumming sound radiating from there as Virgil gasped, his back arching at the fire that seemed to race through his veins. His eyes opened enough to see the dragon, now glowing a bright red and purple crouching on his chest, it's wings spreading out to cover him. Virgil screamed, tears welling, fingers spasming. This was too much. It was Too hot! He was burning up! The dragon was roasting him alive. He was dyi--

“Courage, Braveheart.” Roman’s voice said calmly, a warm hand briefly touching his shoulder as the orange world around him shattered, dissolving into darkness. _“You got this.”_


	4. Chapter 4

He was drowning. There was no other way to say it. Drowning. But instead of water, it was lava trying to suffocate him. 

Virgil writhed in the darkness, fingers gripping at his chest as he fought against the heat. 

_Get it off!!!_ He begged, unable to touch the dragon he knew lurked there. He couldn’t see it. But he could feel it. Oh, he could feel it. 

The heat was too much. It was killing him! He couldn’t survive this warmth! 

“Hang in Virgil, we’re almost through.” 

He twisted to the voice, but saw nothing. _I can’t. I can’t!_ He couldn’t do it. He was failing. He was going to die!

_“Breathe, Edgelord. You got this.”_

Virgil inhaled raggedly, his lungs not working right. They weren’t obeying him, working in their own rhythm that he couldn’t quite match. _Help. Make it stop._

“Quick, get another cc of blood.” 

“Come on, Virgil.” 

The thrumming in his ears increased in pitch as the fire completely engulfed him. 

“You can do it, Virgil!’ 

_“Courage, Braveheart.”_

Lightning struck him, jolting the darkness with red and purple streaks. 

“Darling! Please.” His mother’s voice rang out. 

Virgil cried out, twisting, flinching away as the lightning zipped into him once more. _Mama._

_“You want to live, Virgil. The heat isn’t going to go away. Breathe. This is a good thing. The heart is supposed to keep you warm.”_

No it wasn’t. NO IT WASN’T! Virgil arched his back, digging at his chest. Make it stop! _Take the dragon back! Take it back!_

“CLEAR!” 

_“You want to help out your Mom right, Edgelord? This is how you’re going to do it. Fight to live.”_

Yes, he wanted to be there for his mama, but how?! How could he when the fire was burning him up! 

“CLEAR!” 

Lightning jabbed his chest. Virgil curled in on himself in response, wishing the red and purple would just go away. _It hurts!_

_“I told you it would. Courage, Braveheart. You got this.”_

“Virgil, please, baby. Come on.” His mother pleaded. “Come back to me.” 

_Mama._ Virgil inhaled raggedly. His lungs still not responding to how he wanted to breathe. _Mama._

“Sweetheart, I can’t do this without you. Please.” 

_Mama._ Virgil slowly uncurled, shuddering at the lightning zipping in his veins, searching the darkness. He’d never heard her sound so broken before. He couldn’t let her….no he didn’t want her to be sad. Not because of him, never again because of him.

“CLEAR!”

He trembled as a fresh wave of heat coursed through him. He gasped for breath, clutching at his chest. It was fine. It was fine. It was fine. He was burning up and it was fine. It was normal apparently. He gritted his teeth. Normal. This was normal. He. Could. Handle. This. For. His. Mama. 

_“That’s it, Edgelord.”_

**Ba-dum.**

The drumbeat echoed loudly through the darkspace, replacing the thrumming the dragon had been making earlier. Virgil whirled at the unexpected noise. What was that?! Where was that?! The sound reverberated in a counterpoint to the lightning, seeming to weigh him down with each repetition, tethering him in place.

**Ba-dum.**

The heat from the dragon pulsed. Surrounding him. But...but not burning. It wasn’t burning any more. He rubbed his chest; where the dragon crouched, though he still couldn’t feel it, couldn’t see it. 

**Ba-dum. Ba-dum.**

The lightning around him faded, once more leaving him in darkness. Warm, calming darkness.

“Virgil.” His mother pled. 

_“Courage, Braveheart.”_

“Virgil, can you hear me?” 

**Ba-dum. Ba-dum.**

“Come on sweetheart, stay with me.” 

It was different. It felt different. This darkness. There was a weight on his eyelids. A heaviness to his body that hadn’t been there in the orange space. Where...where...was he now? 

**Ba-dum.**

**Ba-dum.**

**Ba-dum.**

_“Courage, Braveheart.”_

**Ba-dum.**

Virgil stirred, reluctant to leave the peaceful darkness he had found himself in. It was safe there. Now that the lightning was gone. But...that voice...Princey? His eyelids fluttered. 

“Did you see that?!”

“See what?”

“His eyelids moved! My darling, can you hear me?”

_Mama._ There was pressure on his hand, a comforting touch. Warm like the rest of him was now. 

**Ba-dum.**

_“You got this.”_

**Ba-dum.**

**Ba-dum.**

“Can you open your eyes, sweetheart? Or squeeze my hand? Let me know you can hear me.” 

**Ba-dum.**

**Ba-dum.**

Virgil blinked, flirting with consciousness as the drum continued to beat in his ears. He blinked again, struggling to keep his eyes open in the too bright space. He grimaced, feeling something hard in his mouth as he closed his eyes, seeking the protection of the darkness. Why was there something….his mind knew there was a reason to have the thing in his mouth. But what? It was...it was…connected to the steady breaths his lungs were taking. He thought that was right. It was supposed to help him, but he couldn’t remember why. It definitely wasn’t comfortable, but not as bad as the lava he’d experienced earlier

**Ba-dum.**

_“Courage, Braveheart.”_

He knew that voice...where was...? His vision cleared enough when he opened his eyes again to see a hazy Princey standing in front of him.

**Ba-dum.**

**Ba-dum.**

Roman grinned, offering a two finger salute. _“You got this, Edgelord.”_

**Ba-dum.**

Got what? Was his mind-fogged response. He couldn’t think past the drum. Why was it so loud? 

“Virgil? Can you hear me?” 

**Ba-dum.**

**Ba-dum.**

Virgil blinked. Trying to focus on Roman, but the Prince had vanished. Where had he gone? Bemused, he slowly tilted his head to the side, intent on finding Princey, but instead found an angel kneeling there.

“Sweetheart?” 

**Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.**

_Mama._ The drumbeat picked up as he recognized his mother. How could he not? Not when she was smiling so brightly at him. _Mama._

**Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.**

She inhaled sharply, fresh tears running down her cheeks. “Virgil?” She choked out, her hand squeezing his tightly. “You’re awake.” 

Was he awake? Virgil twitched his fingers, his muscles sluggish to respond. Yet after a bit of concentration, he managed to squeeze his mother’s hand in return, running his thumb along hers. She felt...different. Her hand was soothing to touch, the same temperature as his own. Warm. He was warm. And she was warm. It all felt real. Real. He was back. Back with his Mama.

She sobbed, lifting his hand to press it gently to her lips. Clinging to him. “Darling.” She breathed. “My brave boy. You did it.”” 

**Ba-dum. Ba-dum.**

Did what? His hazy mind whirled in confusion. 

“You survived the surgery just like I knew you would.” Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks, a direct contrast to the bright smile she gave him.

He slowly blinked, squeezing her hand to reassure her even as he tried to piece together her words with how he’d ended up here. Surgery? Did she mean the lightning? No...the dragon...no, no...his heart. That was it. His shoulders relaxed a little as it came to him. The demon masquerading as his heart. He’d gotten rid of it in the surgery. No. His eyes drifted to where he’d last seen Princey standing. Roman...had done it. He’d defeated the demon. He had saved him. 

**Ba-dum.**

“You just need to rest now, Virgil.” His mother said after a moment, drawing his attention back to her. She reached out her other hand to brush his hair away from his eyes, trailing it down his cheek. “You need to regain your strength.” 

_Mama._ His mouth twitched in an almost smile as he leaned into her hand. Regain his strength? He hadn’t had much in the first place. But he could become stronger. For her. Be the son that she should have had from the beginning.

**Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.**

“Rest, Virgil. The hard part is over.” She soothed.

Virgil gently squeezed her hand in acknowledgment, though he was reluctant to stop looking at her. He hadn’t known if he would see her again. He didn’t want to rest. What if she was gone when he woke back up? He didn’t want to leave her side again.

She smiled, seeming to read his mind. “I’ll be right here.” She reassured him, scooting closer to the bed, her hand tightening on his own. “Rest.” 

**Ba-dum.**

Virgil allowed himself to relax as she smiled at him. She would be there. **Ba-dum.** Still supporting him. **Ba-dum.** Rest. He would rest and get strength. **Ba-dum.** The sooner he recovered the sooner he could help her. **Ba-dum.** Support her. **Ba-dum.** Be the son he’d always wanted to be for her. **Ba-dum.** His eyes slowly drifting shut, his hand squeezing hers tightly. 

He would be there for her. With this new drum-beat accompanying him. He would make sure of that.


	5. Epilogue

His mother had been right.

Of course, she was always right. But, you couldn’t really blame him for not believing her a year ago when she’d said that he wouldn’t recognize himself. 

Virgil smiled as he bent over to slip on a pair of leather boots. A year ago he would’ve never thought about putting boots on. Would never have dared to do more than look outside let alone go outside to do anything. 

Instead, he’d spent most of his time indoors, drawing. Not wanting to strain his heart, not wanting to risk himself collapsing because he stood up too fast. Fearing that help wouldn’t be able to get to him in time because they wouldn’t be able to find him. 

Virgil straightened, standing easily from the chair. He lightly brushed his chest where Roman’s heart continued to beat strongly. No dizziness. No faintness of breath. Even now, a year later, it still was a marvel to him. 

Others would have thought nothing of such a simple action. Yet for him, it continued to be a miracle. Being able to stand at the sink and help his mom wash the dishes? Miracle. Being able to walk to school instead of being driven? Miracle. Sitting up in bed without growing dizzy? Miracle.

Honestly, Virgil had never realized how much he would be able to do once he got a new heart. The concept of his life being different after the surgery, that he would be able to do more than sit around the house, hadn’t begun to set in until the first time he’d climbed a flight of stairs without his heart attempting to split itself in two. 

That act alone had taken its own bit of courage the first time. Standing at the base of a single flight of stairs in the hospital had been like staring at Mount Everest. Those sixteen steps might as well have been a thousand. Him? Climb those? 

The drumbeat that was now his heart couldn’t accomplish such a thing! His hand trembled on the railing. He could barely manage the three steps leading up to the front door at home without his heart threatening to stop. Climbing these stairs? Impossible. “I can’t.” He whispered, glad his mother was at work so she wouldn’t see him failing. The stairs only seemed to expand further, stretching for a mile as he looked up at them. “I can’t!” 

_Courage, Braveheart._

Virgil jumped, his hand instinctively reaching up to soothe...he frowned, looking down at his chest. It wasn’t...it wasn’t freaking out. He could feel the drumbeat going a little faster, but it was nothing compared to his old heart. The demon heart. That blackened shriveled thing that Roman had destroyed. 

Virgil licked his lips, looking up at the stairs, his heart, no Roman’s heart, beating confidently in his chest. 

_You got this._

Virgil jerked at the voice in his ear, and turned half expecting to see Roman standing there. But Virgil remained alone. “Princey?” He’d whispered, cautiously looking about. 

He looked back to the top of the stairs, almost able to picture Roman standing there with a smirk on his face. What next? Would Princey’s voice state that the Dragon Witch was a harder foe to face than a measly old flight of stairs? 

“Okay...Okay…” Virgil whispered, gripping the railing again, his knuckles going white. “I...I...got--” He didn’t have this. 

But Roman did. And Roman’s heart was within him and he couldn’t let Princey down.

He slowly let out a shaky breath. “It’s... just a Dragon Witch, Virge.” He muttered, lifting his foot and placing it on the first step. “You can defeat one measly old Dragon Witch can’t you?” Roman probably could blindfolded and with both arms behind his back. 

Virgil lifted his other foot off the landing, moving it to the next stair. This Dragon Witch should be easy to overcome...unless this foe was more of the house sized variety instead of crone sized...he really should have asked Princey what one looked like. 

He shook his head, his other hand once more reaching up to clutch at his chest as he moved to the next step. And the next. And the next. All the while the heart within him stayed steady in its beat. Roman’s dragon. The brilliant red pulsing dragon, not the withered black demon. His new heart could do this. It had the strength. 

Virgil’s hand loosened its grip on the railing, his feet moved more confidently, faster, until in the blink of an eye. He’d reached the next floor. He lifted his head, eyes widening as he realized. He’d...he’d done it! 

It had felt amazing. That first taste of freedom. Of independence. And Virgil had craved more. Insomuch that with Roman’s heart strongly pounding it’s constant cadence within his chest, Virgil had gone from being a listless couch potato to a restless teenager in almost no time flat. 

He was constantly fidgeting, needing to move. It often left his mama shaking her head in fond exasperation at his restlessness. He knew she didn’t mind it though. She too had changed in the last year as Virgil had found his energy. She laughed more. Sang more. They spent more time together doing things outside the house and not just sitting on the couch. Though they still did that as well, sitting together watching their favorite movies, his Mama resting her head on his chest, listening to Princey’s heart beating there, a contented smile on her lips. 

More often than not, now that Virgil’s energy levels had spiked, his mother would shoo him out of the house when his restlessness got to be a bit too much for the both of them. 

He’d started expending his energy with doing yardwork, sticking close to home. Just in case. But the longer he went without Roman’s heart causing issues, the more confidence he gained. So when even puttering around the yard hadn’t been enough to stop his fingers from tapping on any surface they came in contact with once he was back inside, Virgil had taken to wandering further from home. Starting with walking around the block, exploring the neighborhood he’d been living in for most of his life, looking for something else to do. 

That was how he’d found the running track at the park.

Virgil briefly closed his eyes as he slipped on the white jacket. The first time he’d stepped onto the track with the vague thought of maybe running a lap...Oh. It had been terrifying. 

Running was something Virgil had never considered doing before the surgery. It had been too much of a risk for him. Get the blood flowing? Ha. More like the blood stopping. 

But now? With Roman’s heart? Could he? Could he run? 

Virgil couldn’t stop himself from shaking like a leaf as he finally lifted a lead filled foot and stepped onto the track. It took another ten shaky breaths before he could make himself walk over to the starting line. 

It was like walking to the gallows. What if this was where it all went wrong? What if he collapsed? What if Roman’s heart gave out here! 

Nervously, he glanced around, looking to see if anyone was nearby to come running to his aid should he falter, but also wanting no one there to watch him collapse. 

This was crazy. This was CRAZY! His feet shifted on the starting line as he stared down the track. Running a lap? Making a full circle? 

Virgil shook his head, turning away. He couldn’t do this! He wasn’t supposed to run. He couldn’t run! That was the mantra he’d told himself all his life. He couldn’t run. And here he’d been considering doing that very thing!

_Courage, Braveheart. You got this._

Once more Virgil jumped, startled again as Princey’s voice rang confidently in his ear. 

“Are you going to keep doing that?!” He demanded to the empty air, turning in a circle unsurprised to not see Roman standing there.

No answer.

Virgil exhaled, running a hand through his hair. Geez. People were going to think he was crazy if this kept up. If he kept responding to Princey’s voice. He shoved his hands in his pockets, again glancing down the track as he toed the starting line.

But...if Roman thought he had it. If he had confidence Virgil could do it...Believe that he could run...it was Roman’s heart...he knew what could and couldn’t be done with it. 

Virgil pursed his lips in a determined line. “Alright, heart.” He muttered, pulling his hands out of his pockets to hang them loosely at his side. “Let’s see what you got.” 

He leaned slightly forward, looking down the line. He..could do this...he could do this...“Race you Princey.” He said, mentally picturing Roman at his side. “Three.” He swallowed, hands clenching. “Two.” Just run. Just run. “One.” Deep breath. “GO!” He broke into a run, racing down the track and....well it had been like Christmas morning. 

The wind in his face, his lungs burning, Roman’s heart pounding in his chest, not with the threat of possibly stopping, but from the pure adrenaline of being able to RUN. Virgil raced around the entire track and managed another half lap before he stopped, hands on knees, breathing heavily. 

And there was no dizziness. No feeling like he was about to throw up. No worry that his heart would beat itself senseless, because Roman’s heart, that confident ba-dum in his chest, kept beating steadily. 

The pure joy that had rushed through him in that moment of accomplishment was indescribable. It had bubbled up from his heart, into his throat and come out as laughter. Happy. Breathless. Laughter.

“Yo, Edgelord.” 

Virgil blinked, coming back to the present. He turned to the stagehand standing at the door. “Yeah?” He asked, adjusting his cuffs of the jacket. 

The stagehand checked the clipboard, giving him a smile. “You’re on in five.” 

Virgil nodded, turning to study his reflection in the mirror, swallowing down the sudden nervousness at those words. “Be right there.” 

It had been on his way back from the jogging track, months after running that first lap, that he’d seen the poster advertising auditions for that afternoon for the local theatre. Normally he wouldn’t have paid it any mind. But the image on the poster had caught his eye. 

Virgil’s lips twitched as he picked up a red sash from the back of the chair, holding it gently. The man shown in the poster had been dressed almost exactly as Roman had been when they’d both been in Limbo.

Virgil exhaled, shaking his head with a light chuckle as he placed the sash over his coat. He had no idea if the real Roman had been into theatre in his lifetime. The clothes he’d worn in Limbo could have been created from Virgil’s imagination. But somehow, it seemed to fit him. 

So, curious to see what the play was about. To see why the man had been dressed like Princey, Virgil had, on a whim, wandered into the building to see what it was like in there. 

It had been surprising how...comfortable it felt within the theatre. Only the stage had been lit up when he’d wandered in the auditorium, the rest of the place shrouded in shadows. There’d been multiple people scattered about once his eyes had adjusted. Some in the seats, some on the stage. 

He hadn’t planned to audition. It’s just kind of happened. 

Someone had spotted him lurking in the back after he’d watched a half dozen people try out. 

Virgil hadn’t quite been pulled onto the stage then, but the others there had strongly encouraged him to try out despite his protests. He’d only come to check it out. He wanted to see what the Prince looking guy in the poster was about. That statement had prompted someone to hand him a script and encourage him to find a passage to read from.

Honestly, he was surprised Roman hadn’t done his little ‘Courage, Braveheart. You got this.’ mantra then and there. He’d done so multiple times by that point. Nearly every time Virgil was faced with a fear regarding his old heart. 

A year later and he still could forget, in the heat of the moment, he didn’t have to worry about Roman’s heart having the same problems. 

Yet, with how hard his heart had been pounding, he’d thought for sure he’d hear him. Perhaps it had signaled that Roman wasn’t actually into plays. Or else he didn’t think it was anything needing his interference. Who knew.

When Virgil had been asked once more if he wanted to give it a shot after another handful of auditions had passed..he’d just...gone for it. It wasn’t like he needed to wait for Roman’s encouragement to try something new. And besides, since he’d seen multiple other people by that point attempting to portray the Prince, and well...failing, Virgil was itching to try it out himself.

It wasn’t like he was anything like Roman. Virgil was under no illusions that he could ever be anything like Princey. But still, he felt confident enough that he could do this character a bit more justice, having seen the real thing himself. 

It had been...nice really. To pretend to be Princey. 

It felt more like he was playing a personal tribute to the young man who’d given him a second chance at life, than trying out for a part. A quiet thank you. 

He’d left the auditorium that evening with the vague thought of buying tickets for him and his mama when the play opened. 

He’d never expected to get a callback. To be cast in the role. 

Really, he’d wondered more than once if Roman had somehow pulled some sort of magic strings of fate to get it all to happen like this. 

Virgil glanced once more in the mirror, adjusting the collar on the jacket, smoothing out the sash before he laid a hand on the mirror. He didn’t look much like Roman despite the costume. He was skinnier, not yet as tan. But. He offered his reflection a smile. “This is for you, Princey.” he whispered, placing a hand on his heart before he turned away. 

Squaring his shoulders, Virgil left the dressing room and strolled across the creaky stage to take his position behind the curtain.

Opening night. Here went everything. 

Virgil took a steadying breath before he nodded to the stagehand. He was ready. 

His heart was pounding like he was running a marathon, the butterflies in his stomach doing their best to convince him he wasn’t up to the task. This whole thing was totally crazy, but for this. For this moment. For the chance to continue his own quiet tribute to Princey’s memory. He was ready. 

_Courage, Braveheart._ Roman’s voice echoed in his ears as the music for the prologue swelled.

Virgil smirked, eyes sparking. He lifted his head as the curtain rose. “I got this.”


End file.
